Dear Dad Moss Archives - Page 2 of 2

31 May 1943

Dear Dad:

I should have written you some time ago but lately I have been pretty busy and have to take time off to write. I hope you have read the book, for now you will have a better picture of my environment. I like it better here every day and if I don’t check myself, I’ll want to stay.

Tomorrow is my day off and I suppose I will play some tennis and loaf around the USO. I haven’t seen Dick yet but have had a letter from him. It may be possible that we can get together this month if something doesn’t happen to impact my arrangements. I’m glad you received all the pictures. Film is not plentiful but by looking around we can usually manage to find a roll. I know it’s a mistake to call this a letter but letters are not just a lot of paper of words.

Love,

20 March 1943

Dearest Dad:

It’s high time I sat down and once again wrote you a letter. I received yours a couple of days ago and I believe it was the only one during the week.

This is Saturday night. Although it’s been many weekends since I’ve enjoyed a civilian weekend, I was especially reminiscent on the subject tonight. I listened to The Hit Parade and some dance music and that helped recall those lost day of follies. Right now Fred Allen is on and it is always a marvel to me that both of us can listen to the same program. In a loose sort of a way it forms a feeling of nearness.

Next month I hope that I can have a few photographs taken. Good photographers are not in abundance but their work is acceptable. They are all Japanese, who all seem to possess a curious mania for cameras.

The bridge foursome got together again tonight and it was a successful session for me. We just finished a few minutes ago. I believe I am improving regardless of the dubious tutelage.

I hope that you have received the knick-knacks by now and it was too bad they couldn’t be there for Mom’s birthday. I am doing considerable reading and it seems that I can never read enough. There is such an infetertmable number of articles in my brain and the resulting consciousness of my inadequacy is very depressing.

Well I’ve come to the end of another very brief letter. Physically I’m very well and have not been on sick call since being on the islands. For all I think of you I should be able to write more and I do hate to stop. I’ll write tomorrow. A million times I’ve gone over the first day when I get home.

Love,

18 February 1943

Dear Dad:

I received your typewritten V-mail today and to attest to my vow of early reply, here I come. Your letter was very interesting and I took a long time reading it. Your free style manner of detail and continuity add a punch of zest and life. Anyway I like ‘em bushels and you should write more often. In case you haven’t guessed, to write a lengthy and appealing letter over here is quite a task and often I quit in disgust. I hope you liked what I sent a while back but I think you will go more for what I sent yesterday. As a result I am on a precariously balanced budget for the rest of the month, but that is nothing new. And I had a great deal of satisfaction in sending them. I’m drawing seventy-nine bucks every thirty days now so I plan to increase my allotment to about thirty-five dollars. By the way I’m a corporal now. That’s where the extra dough is coming from. I hope the bonds have started to come regularly now. Tonight, or the forepart of it, was very unusual. For the first time in the Army I got into a bridge game and by a real stroke of luck came out on top. It was contract so I did more guessing than anything else. My partner and I worked together like a pistol and a wheel. Today two Free Presses came but I couldn’t figure out the handwriting on the wrapper. The Reader’s Digest also came. Since the latest postal regulations, mail has been slower and not so frequent but on the whole it is pretty good. Perhaps you wouldn’t think it would get very chilly here but I’m using an overcoat and raincoat along with three blankets. If I had a mattress it would seem much warmer though. In my estimation a bed is man’s best friend and when I get home I’m going to stretch in all four directions at one time. The war news seems to be changing color every day and I’m earnestly reviving hopes of a homecoming in early 1944. This is the end of the communiqué tonight. In a way I hate to stop but I couldn’t think of anything anyway. I’ll buy you a banana leaf hat for your garden this summer.

Love,

10 December 1942

Dear Dad:

It has been a long time since I last wrote but if the family tatters the edges of those I write then I guess I can be excused, but I do want to write you often and keep as close to all of you as I can. Tonight was a landoffice business on mail and about everyone rated something. I had two and a postcard; one from Pat and a card from the Reader’s Digest about the subscription. I have about a dozen books on my bed but the Digest is a must. The town nearby operates a free library or rather a traveling free library. Also the Red Cross supplies us with plenty of old magazines.

Tonight the radio is going on as usual and right now it’s Major Bowes. Radio batteries are pretty non-existent. I guess the WPB has ruled them out for commercial purposes. For other entertainment the USO makes movies possible. They are shown in the recreation room of the hospital. Most of the fellows are attending. But I walked to the irrigation ditch for a bath and didn’t make it back. The army has a PX in town that is pretty well stocked and where soldiers can get essentials and supplies at reasonable cost.

There is a little news—have a pass on Saturday to go to the beach, wouldn’t you like to swim in December? The flowers are getting prettier all the time.

Last night I sent you the paper and a letter so I’ll slack off.

I’m in good spirits and better health—this sunshine is a good tonic. Hurry with Katie’s pictures. Goodnite and I’ll take you up on the jacket.

Love,

16 November 1942

Dear Dad:

I guess it’s been a long time since I’ve pinned a letter exclusively for you and now is a good a time as any to get off another. Received your long typewritten V-letter—a lot of news in it and I’m afraid I can’t reciprocate too well. I have had a couple of (letters) from Kate recently so apparently your prompting accomplished it’s purposes—but she’s pretty busy with the jump so near. It seems odd to hear about cold weather when it’s nice here—although I use my two blankets fully in the nights.

About the bonds—the deal is still on and has been since June at the rate of $12.50 per month. They should reach you soon and they will after the red tape and processing has been cut.

It seems like every letter has a little about a box and I can account for five or six now—three from you, one from gram, one from Mrs. Carroll, one from Kate and the girl in Washington. It is a darn swell feeling to know you all think of me so much. I hope you can use what I sent you and I believe you can. Maybe I should send you some sugar—there is no rationing here.

I’m really very fine and sleeping and eating like a retired postman.

Received a card from Mrs. Peters—I will answer it soon and a box from Gram that I think I told you about.

I’m up a blind alley for anything else so here’s the finis. Keep the typewriter stuttering.

Love,

20 October 1942

Dear Dad:

Your V letter caught up with me so to end up another day will answer it now. I’ve been waiting for a letter to tell you that you had received mine and probably by the time you read this you will have a room full. As usual I can’t think of much to write about. Days are about the same with the same routine. I’m acting as correspondent of our battery for the island Army newspaper and spent part of the day writing news and the ballgame last Sunday. We were defeated 15-0 but we’ve just begun to practice. Perhaps yesterday was memorable-my first hot shower since my stay on the island. Received a letter from Gram about Sonny Bennet—have been writing her about twice weekly. Sent a card. Waiting for Bob Hope to come on. Had a letter from Mrs. Carroll giving me Duane’s address. Perhaps I’ll write him. Don’t worry about your literary style, Dad and wear out a few typewritten ribbons.

Love,

13 October 1942

EFM Virgil R. Moss

Keep smiling. You are more than ever in my thoughts at this time. Letters received many thanks.

Harold G. Moss 9:30 AM

22 July 1942

Dear Folks:

Time to write another letter while I’m goldbricking and while there is still some semblance of coolness in the air. Next Tuesday, a week from today we will be back in Fort Lewis and that won’t be too soon for me. Last Saturday and Sunday was in Yakima and had a good time getting my fill of dancing and good time. The place is about like Scottsbluff with eight some thousand people. There are plenty of places to go(to) and nice parks to go to. Also went to the Episcopal church, typical of most, covered with foliage and made of brick. Next Sunday and Saturday afternoon thinking of going berry or fruit picking. There is a shortage of workers so the soldiers are making up parties and picking in their spare time. Six thousand went out from Ft. Lewis last Sunday and there will probably be more this weekend.

Had a little excitement last nite when a seven foot rattlesnake attempted to share a fellow’s sleeping bag with him.

There are rumors that when our outfit returns to Lewis the cadre is going to Oregon and the outfit back to California. No word about furloughs. This morning we got a letter from an irate Montanan father who requested his son be granted a 30 day furlough. Of course it was turned down—impossible now.

Yesterday was a day of excitement and a little tragedy. It seems that C battery is a jinx for hard luck. Yesterday afternoon two cooks were burned, one seriously, when a unit in the stove blew up and sprayed gasoline all over the truck and the whole kitchen. The orderly tent is just a few yards from it and when it blew up we heard it first. Both cooks jumped off the truck screaming hysterically and flaming like torches. We threw blankets around them and rushed them to the doctor. Last nite and today one was given blood transfusions. The one most seriously burned happens to live in Yakima and can be with his folks. Before we got him out, two of his ribs were sticking out. That’s the first time I ever saw anyone so seriously burned and I was plenty jittery.

Later in the day we went swimming and when we got back we had to fight a prairie fire that was headed for the camp. The dust and smoke was so thick I could hardly breathe and it was one o’clock a.m. before I got to bed. The whole camp was there with trucks and graders and sprinklers and it was a great holocaust of excitement. Jeeps were tearing around like mad hens and bugles were blowing somewhere in the dust.

Guess this is enough for this time—going to a USO dance tonight if nothing else happens.

Some Red Cross women came around this morning with a station wagon full of cookies to put in our lunches. They wanted to see the stoves and help make the sandwiches so they pitched in. One lady went for a jeep ride and bounced all over the seat. We gave them about ten pounds of sugar and some grease.

Well see you in the next letter.

Love,

27 January 1942

Dear Dad:

Got your nice letter yesterday and your style and subject matter is improving considerably but that doesn’t make any difference anyway.

Yesterday and the day before I spent in San Diego having my eyes re-examined and checked. The lens in my glasses came out one day so thought I’d use that as an excuse to get a check on them.

After considerable contemplation and serious thought I finally did last Wednesday what I’ve wanted to really try to do. I signed papers for the Air Corps. It will be necessary for the papers to go thru a lot of red tape before I really get the chance so it will probably be at least a month. My health is perfect now except for my eyes so the physical may prove to be a barrier. I want to fly or be in the air but I’m a little doubtful about it. Of course you realize this entails three years of duty but I believe the war will go on for almost that long. The pay and food are much better and a better bunch of fellows are in the Air Corps. The danger is not much greater and I’ll have to go thru a long period of training.

Just got an airmail letter from Wylma and she said she had visited you Sunday. Maybe she’s trying to rekindle a spark.

I hope you can talk Dick into leaving. Opportunities were never more golden out here. We can make good money and possibly save it for future education. San Diego is booming and he should take advantage of it. He should do it now not wait but pack up quickly. I’m going to write him.

Had a chance to see Gram when I was in San Diego having my eyes checked. I met her at the ferry and we had about an hour and a half together. Hope she makes it up Sunday.

I’m enclosing some pictures of our battalion as it looks parked around the town.

This is rather a sketchy letter but I’ll get a good one off soon.

Love,